"Mrs. Vale," the doctor said gently, and her voice carried the particular softness of someone delivering something that required softness.
"What you're looking at is uncommon, but it does happen. It has a name. Heteropaternal superfecundation." She paused.
Let the clinical language do what clinical language did, create a small distance between the people in the room and the raw human reality of the thing being described.
"In some rare cases, when a woman releases more than one egg in the same cycle, each egg can be fertilised by two different sperm."
"The twins have different fathers."
Amara said it herself. Flat. Quiet. Like she needed to hear it in her own voice to confirm that the words were real. That she was not still unconscious somewhere, dreaming something her brain had constructed to punish her.
